


The Art of Tugging Leashes

by TheDelphian



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDelphian/pseuds/TheDelphian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick attempts the solo act, but fails miserably at it - leaving him no choice but to lean on Slade for support. A little dark, but not horrendously so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Tugging Leashes

He’d been surprised to get the text message. And whether the shock was due to him having forgotten that he had, at one point, given a ruthless mercenary his phone number, or simply due to never truly expecting him to actually make contact, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. Either way, he wasn’t about to ignore it.

Twelve sets of coordinates and a sentence to follow – _the offer still stands_ , and Dick had to laugh at that. After all, it wouldn’t have made sense if Slade’s own self-interest hadn’t been attached to the whole thing, but Dick could see it for what it truly was: an open hand. Better yet, an invitation.

Dick accepted, of course. After all, cutting yourself off from daddy’s money meant safe-houses were hard to come by. And Deathstroke’s safe-houses were guaranteed to be loaded with all kinds of goodies, and Dick was never one to turn down new toys. Of course, he knew he was being limited – twelve was a relatively small number when considering the biblical nature of the man he was dealing with. And Dick knew the reasoning behind it – this was a leash. This was a means of control if he were ever to recognize one. And the moment Dick put his eye up against that first retinal scan, he’d bought his collar and hooked right on.

And there was no point in hiding it. Dick knew each time he opened a door or so much as stepped onto the property, an alert would be sent straight to Slade’s phone. Whether he liked it or not, Slade knew each time he took refuge in these playpens he’d been gifted with. The shame that came with that knowledge, however, was easy enough to drown away when Slade kept his liquor cabinets stocked with only the finest. No one had ever accused Slade Wilson of being a man free of vice, but something about the image of him throwing back two fingers of scotch whilst biting a Cuban cigar made Dick smile.

At this point, he was being a dick about it. He knew how anal the man could be about pretty much everything, so the only logical solution was to screw with the guy – if only a little bit. Unmade beds, dirty dishes left on the counter, books that aren’t put back on the shelf in alphabetical order – all of these were little traces of himself he left behind. His own special way of saying _‘Hey, how’s it going? I’m loving this trap you’re luring me into. Please take note of how willingly I’m throwing myself into it,’_ because that’s where he was at this point in his life. He had failed on his own, but his ego prevented him from crawling back to he-who-shall-not-be-named. So, really, this was his only option.

Los Angeles was the last place he expected an overlap in schedules. And maybe that was because he truly hadn’t much of a schedule – he just really wanted to see Los Angeles. But after hours of mindless dancing and an abortive hook-up, he decided to call it a night. And as soon as he opened the garage and saw that custom orange and blue motorcycle, he knew he was in for some serious trouble. Not that he had expected to get away freely much longer, but he hadn’t wanted it all to end just yet.

Slade was sitting on the couch when he walked in; his legs were propped up on the glass coffee table. He didn’t acknowledge him, and Dick really didn’t expect him to. Dick was approaching from behind, where he could see that the elder man was finishing a crossword puzzle – he only had a few words left. He was taking his time.

Dick draped himself over the back of the couch, wrapping his arms loosely around Slade’s neck. If the man was surprised by the sudden contact, he didn’t show it.

“Flotsam,” Dick said.

Slade raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Flotsam,” Dick repeated. “It’s the one answer to a crossword I ever wrote down before I lost interest.”

Dick could practically hear the subtle downturn of Slade’s mouth. “Were you ever medicated for that ADD of yours?”

Dick grinned at that. “Was never tested. Denial is a nice place to live this time of year.”

And that earned him an indiscernible huff of a laugh. A few beats of silence passed before Slade penned in sixteen across, because of course he would use pen. Why wouldn’t he? Pencils were for those who made mistakes.

“You’ve been drinking my liquor, Boy Wonder,” Slade said. His tone was less irritation and more disapproving parent, which made Dick smile more than anything.

“Sorry,” he said, “it’s good stuff. Besides, I’m of age, remember? And I’m really trying to drop that whole ‘Boy Wonder’ thing these days, though you’re the only one who says it in a way that doesn’t make me feel like you’re mocking me. So, I appreciate that. Really.”

Slade just grunted at that before filling in twenty-seven down. “Where were you just now?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t track my every move.”

Slade’s frown got louder. “You left your cellphone on the counter.”

“Really? Whoops.”

A slight pause, and then, “where were you?”

Dick grinned. _Sucks not being in control of things, doesn’t it?_

“Oh, you know, places,” and he left it at that. Remarkably, Slade did as well. Dick may have been on a leash, but it was still a rather lengthy one, so he could tug at it a bit. He pressed his face into Slade’s neck and took a moment to simply inhale. It’d been months since they’d been this close, but Slade still smelled of Old Spice and Nth metal just as Dick remembered.    

Slade penned in six across. Two more left. “And were you never taught how to make a bed?”

Dick smiled into Slade’s neck, his lips dragging across cool, pale skin.

“Our butler usually did all that.” He said. “Speaking of, why don’t you have any of those? Like, one for each safe-house. You certainly have the money for it.”

For a while, Slade didn’t say anything to that – he penned in the second to last word. Dick went back to kissing his neck.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff,” he finally said, and all Dick could think was, _well that’s certainly a lie_. But, instead, he responded with the more risqué option of “Batman had to learn that the hard way, didn’t he?”

And that was that. The unspeakable had been spoken, and Dick had pretty much just said the words ‘ _I belong to you_ ’ to Slade Wilson. And if someone were to make a list of the top five most dangerous things to say to Slade Wilson, that one was right up there between ‘ _the check bounced_ ’ and ‘ _Deadshot’s in town_.’

Dick straightened out and made his way towards the kitchen. The cupboards were see-through, so he grinned like a maniac when he saw the perfectly aligned row of cardboard boxes behind the glass.

“You bought more cereal.” Dick said, sticking his head out to look over to where Slade now sat with his hands folded in his lap – he must have finished the crossword.

Slade was watching him with a careful eye. “As I recall, that’s about eighty percent of your diet.”

Dick’s grin grew impossibly wider. “More like ninety percent.”

He slid back into the kitchen in order to find himself a bowl. Normally he’d just rinse out one of the ones he’d left on the counter, but Slade had apparently done dishes.

“Yes, well, if you’re serious about what you just said,” said Slade, his gruff voice carrying into the kitchen, “then let it be known that I will be adjusting your dietary habits.”

And that’s when Dick’s grin faltered, because, well, _was_ he serious? Had he truly fallen so far in life that he was willing to sign his life away to _Deathstroke_ of all people?

But as he thought back to all his recent failures as Nightwing – his near death experiences, his careless stunts… He realized, yes. _Yes, I have_. Clearly he needed someone looking out for him, and he refused to let it be Bruce. He’d lead a life of greed and submission before subjecting himself to that horrendous ‘ _I told you so_.’ And, in many ways, didn’t that mean he and Slade deserved each other?

Dick smiled before shoving a spoon into the soggy mountain of Krazy Kracks. He leaned against the doorway that lead back into the living room, watching where Slade still sat on the couch.

“Then I guess I better make the most of it.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! Constructive criticism is always welcomed!


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